I feel Jesus in the clumsiness of young and awkward lovers

Today was Siena.
I think that's how I'm supposed to write these types of goal-oriented, themed blogs...I'm not really sure. I just know how to journal. Gah. Fuck it.

Today was Siena. Today I sat in my corner of the bus, head against the window, the busdriver's all too Italian driving jerking me up and down, and listened to my current On-The-Go playlist. I was in my own world entirely. I had muted the sound of the 20 other students on the bus, and as we got closer and closer to Siena, I realized I didn't want the bus to stop, because when the bus stopped, I had to turn off my music and re-enter the real world. And I had a flashback, to my 6th grade Europe trip, and I remembered never wanting to get off the bus because it meant I would have to stop listening to my cd player, stop reading, stop writing. It was sort of a weird memory. It had been buried really deep, and it was something I never would have thought about again, if that feeling hadn't overwhelmed me again. And then I was awed to realize that music has been my saving grace since a fairly young age.

The bus ride wasn't bad, and I love being in my own little world far too much to be upset about listening to music for an hour and a half. Siena is so much quieter than Florence. I knew more about Siena going into this experience - about the Palio, le constrade, La Piazza del Campo, il Duomo, and it was really cool to see what I'd read about up close.

But when we were in the Duomo, looking at its unbelievable interior, and the 54 handcarved marble floor pieces, our tour guide mentioned something about Peter being on one side, and Paul being on the other (yes, I know. Four hours later, my memory is already lacking), and I immediately flashed back to the song that has been playing on repeat since I got here. "Girl in the War" by Josh Ritter. (Paul said to Peter, "you've got to rock yourself a little bit harder/pretend the dove from above is a dragon/and your feet are on fire") and I had a musical realization.

I'm going to sidestep for a second and say that yes, this might be dumb and long, but you don't have to read it, and yes, I know I'm in Italy, and I'm writing about my music. But a revelation is a revelation, and maybe there's a reason I realized this in Italy.

It started with the realization that the vast majority of my favorite songs have literary, historical, and most often, biblical references (Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, Oedipus by Regina Spektor, Citrus by the Hold Steady). And as we toured the rest of the Duomo, and we stood in awe in front of intricate frescoes, statues of saints, and stained glass that, despite the dreary day, managed to absolutely glow, I realized that this was most likely due to the fact that music is the closest thing I have to a true religion. I didn't grow up with any diety forced down my throat, and I've always believed in God, but the closest I've felt to any sort of higher power is when I'm listening to music, especially live. When a song gets in your chest and fills your heart, your lungs, and completely intoxicates you. Hearing Coldplay at Alpine Valley made me reach a new plane of serenity, that was literally awe-some.

I feel like this is a sensible place to end this entry, but it was a long day, and I had a lot of time to just think, and so, unluckily for you, this is going to be longer.

At lunch, Mandy, Jen, Ingrid and I sat down at a little restaurant a few streets down from the Piazza and as we were eating, we were giggling at a little boy that was overjoyed with a fish in the fishtank. The dad turned around and started talking to us. It started off being about his children (both of whom speak Hebrew, French and Russian), and it's funny to me that no language barrier in the world could keep the pride out of a parent's voice when talking about their children. But the conversation quickly turned to us, and where in the U.S. we were from. The man had done his residency at University Hospital in Cincinnati, even though he was French, and lived in Israel. Mandy looked dumbstruck. She had been born in University Hospital, the same year he was there doing his residency in the maternity wing.
"Well, I'm sorry to say, I don't remember you" the man chuckled.
"Yeah, well I don't remember either" Mandy responded, also laughing.

I love small world stories, and moments like that make me appreciate that all the way across the world, in a tiny tiny restaurant, in Siena, we have something in common with the Israeli man sitting at the table next to us. There are always commonalities, it's just a matter of taking the time to learn them.

By the time we all returned to the bus to head to San Gimignano, everyone was a little bit whiny, a lot bit wet, and even more downtrodden about the fact that one of our two buses had broke down. We piled ourselves into the first bus and suggested to Danny and Valentina, our CAPA guides, that we leave a little early from San Gimignano, to which they quickly agreed.

But Italy surprised us. San Gimignano was beautiful, in the classic Tuscan way. The sun was low in the sky already at 4:00 when we arrived, but at least the sun was visible, creating a hazy glow over the Tuscan countryside. Climbing to a Scenic Point, Ingrid, Mandy, Jen, Nathan and I got two bottles of wine, some bread and some cheese, and enjoyed the view perched on a stone wall. It was a perfect moment. I breathed in deeply, and I could smell the faint scent of someone burning brush, and somewhere close by bread was being baked. I felt completely care free.

The bus ride back was peaceful. The second bus had been fixed, and everyone's spirits had been lifted by the beautiful end to the day. I watched the Tuscan countryside go by in the dark, and thought that the little lights of houses along the way didn't look any different from house lights from the highway at home at night.


I guess that's all for now.
sorry this is ridiculously long
-sara